


Say Goodnight and Go

by anomalousity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:44:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is never sleeping in again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Goodnight and Go

Castiel is never sleeping in again.

Usually he wakes up before 6:10, and can sprint to the bus with the luxury of breakfast. Other times, he can wake at 6:30 and catch a ride with Anna. But today, and yesterday, he’s slept until 7:00, thus making it necessary that he speak to his neighbor.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, glaring at the clock which answers him with a chirp and a blink indicating that now it is 7:01. He tosses his legs over the edge of his bed before making his way to the bathroom. It’s too late to shower, but Castiel still manages to pee and brush his teeth.

When he returns to his room, the clock flashes 7:07. Hesitantly, he peers out of his window to see that his neighbor is still tugging on a shirt, his brownish hair tousled and just looking haggard in general.

Castiel _really_ doesn’t want to talk to him.

He dresses quickly before sprinting down the stairs and stuffing his feet into his shoes. No one’s home, but there’s still a bag set out for him with a post-it note reading, “love, anna. p.s. you should probably start setting your alarm, cas.”

He sighs again before grabbing the back and pushing through the door. He gambles a glance towards the beautiful boat of a car resting in his neighbor’s driveway, then feels a hot blush color his cheeks when the asshole spots him and smirks.

Dean Winchester really has a way of grating on Castiel’s nerves.

“Something you need, Cas?”

Castiel drops his gaze to his shoes, grimacing at the cheerful note in Dean’s tone. “I need a ride,” he mumbles to the ruined sneakers.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

He grits his teeth before glancing up. “I need a ride, Dean.” He could almost cringe at the way Dean’s grin only grows wider.

“Well,” he says, opening the passenger door. “Hop on in.”

* * *

* * *

 

Okay, scratch that. Castiel is _never_ waking up again.

Dean is rambling on about upcoming trials for track. Normally, it wouldn’t be irksome. Hell, from anyone else, Castiel would be glad to hear about more people joining the team. But from Dean? It only means trouble and thinly concealed digs at his athletic prowess.

“So, I hear Coach Mike is making me sprinting captain,” Dean proclaims, oblivious to the way Castiel grits his teeth and barely bites back a retort. Nonetheless, when he continues, Castiel thanks his stars for having an amazing temperament. “I mean, it’s too bad that you won’t be. But hey, at least you’re second best, am I right?”

Castiel feels hot rage boil in his veins. Just as he musters the willpower to say something, Dean pulls into the parking lot and offers Castiel a cheerful smirk. “See you in Calc, Cas.”

He deserves a Nobel Peace Prize when he nods and says, “See you.”

Castiel knows damn well that he’s spineless. Well, maybe not spineless, but he never seems to say what’s on his mind. Especially when it comes to Dean, though sometimes he lets something slip.

Like now, for instance.

“Cas!” Castiel turns only to be greeted with the image of Dean running after him, clutching his bag in one hand and wearing a shit eating grin. “Wait up, man.”

Instead of waiting, he just spins on his heel and continues up the walk, ignoring Dean as he calls his name and falls into step with him. He grits his teeth and thinks of sunshine and murder when Dean starts prodding his sides.

“Hey,” he says, his stupid voice grinding on Castiel’s nerves. “Cas, c’mon don’t be like that. Cas, look at me. Cas, Cas, _Cas_.” Castiel stops in his tracks and offers Dean a disbelieving look. When the asshole opens his mouth to speak again, Castiel can’t hold his tongue any longer.

He takes a deep breath before letting the metaphorical dam break.

“My God, do you ever stop talking? Every day it’s a different string of the same words repeated in endless cycle, you’re like a broken record; do you know that? It’s literally the same thing. Not to mention your constant belittling of me. Dean, I really don’t care if you can sprint a 400 .2 seconds faster than I can, but holding it over me as some sort of bargaining tool isn’t earning you any friendship points from me. And why the hell do you drive me to school when we’re late; is there some ulterior moti-”

Castiel’s words are stopped when Dean leans forward and plants one on him.

When he pulls away, Castiel still doesn’t speak. His mouth just opens and closes as he gazes at the asshole’s freckled face, his too big green eyes, and the honest to God blush coloring his ears and neck.

“Dean-”

He’s interrupted; not a first this morning, evidently.

“I’ll see you in class.”

* * *

* * *

 

Castiel is never going to school again.

Whispers follow him throughout the day, people chattering on about how he’s Dean’s new plaything or some bullshit. He tries to ignore them, but they are a constant buzz humming through one ear and out the other.

Today has been full of sighs.

He rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose as he rummages through his locker. He can feel eyes on him, even as he goes to grab his damn calculus textbook, for crying out loud. When he fishes out all he needs, he spins on his heel, finding that, suspiciously, no one is staring at him. Cowards.

Thankfully, Calc is at the end of the day and he only has to get through one more class before he can officially coin this the worst day of his life. It’s only when he opens the door and steps into the classroom that he remembers he shares this class with Dean.

And, as though on cue, Dean is sitting next to Castiel’s usual spot.

“We need to talk,” the asshole mutters as Castiel takes his seat. Everyone surrounding them is looking at them with looks ranging from curiosity to blatant doe eyes. The ground could just swallow him right there and Castiel would have no protests.

Class is boring, as usual, and Castiel is allowed to focus on catching a few minutes of sleep. He folds his arms over the table and rests his chin in the dip, letting his eyes slide shut before officially zoning out.

It’s only a minute later that _someone’s_ finger prods his sides.

“What the hell do you want,” Castiel grows, cracking open an eye to glare daggers at Dean’s ramrod figure.

“You shouldn’t sleep in class, dipshit.”

Castiel grunts. “I’ll do as I damn well please, Winchester.”

For once, Dean doesn’t respond.

* * *

* * *

 

Castiel is never leaving his house again.

He pushes through the main doors, clutching his backpack as he starts off in the direction of his house. It’s a thirty minute walk, but it’s well worth it if it means not having to see Dean’s annoying mug for the rest of the day.

The sun is shining and the air is warm; perhaps this day won’t be so bad after all. He can almost feel a small smile playing on his lips as he walks down the street. Hell, even the football players gruffly beginning their practice aren’t so bad.

An engine revs behind him; maybe Castiel spoke too soon.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear; Castiel turns to be greeted by the sight of the sleek black coat of Dean’s impala. He tenses up to sprint the rest of the way home, heavy backpack be damned, but a voice stops him.

“Please Cas, talk to me, man.”

Castiel growls before letting his muscles go slack. Slowly, he rotates until he’s facing Dean’s stupid face, all but morose as he glances out the passenger window.

“What is there to talk about?” Castiel asks, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t miss the way Dean cringes at his words.

“Everything,” he replies. After a moment, his face colors. “Nothing. Er, I don’t fucking know, Cas. But would you please get in the damn car?”

“My mother said I shouldn’t take rides from strangers.”

Dean rolls his eyes before pulling over and turning off the engine. “For fuck’s sake, Novak.” Castiel watches in amazement as he steps out of the car, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. He almost looks regretful-

No, Castiel can’t think like that. Dean’s an asshole; he needs to be treated as such.

“Look,” Dean begins, his cheeks pink. “I, uh, sort of have a massive crush on you, man.”

Huh, that’s a shocker. Still, Castiel waits, unimpressed and impassive as Dean squirms.

“I wanted to, um, ask if you would come see a movie or something… with me.” Oh, and Dean is blushing now. “Or coffee or whatever. I really don’t care; we can go fly fishing, if that’s what you’d like.”

And Castiel can’t help it; he snorts. And then, he giggles. And then he outright laughs. Dean is just so _serious_ for once that Castiel can’t handle it, so he breaks. Raucous laughter tears from his lungs and he drops his backpack, clutches his stomach when the muscles start to hurt.

When he finally finishes, he brushes away a tear. “Are you serious?”

Dean levels him with a nod, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Oh shit, he’s serious. “You’re not kidding,” Castiel breathes, all traces of humor gone from his tone.

He receives another nod in response before Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets. He huffs a laugh before turning his gaze back to Castiel. “I guess you’d be surprised, what with thinking I’m a dick and all.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

Dean scowls and Castiel giggles. When he calms, he schools his features into cautious indifference. And, as he stoops to gather his things, he replies.

“I like burgers.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “What?”

“You said whatever I wanted, right?” Castiel feels a wide smile bloom on his lips, followed by a blush. “Well, I like burgers.”


End file.
